snow ghosts and fever ray holding up the unhinged girls who write at 2 am since 2009
The woes of wanting to draw pirates while watching pirates but wanting to Pay Attention to the pirates so maybe drawing pirates while watching pirates is not the best idea.
cw: kept prisoner, threats, self depreciation, blood reference, despite the title there is no comfort to be had here
All Kevia wanted in their life was stability. They wished one master would pick them, and everyone would agree to that and leave them alone. They were very much tired of being passed from master to master.
Their chains jangled as they pulled their legs up to their chest. This cell had to be, by far, the worst place they’d been kept. At least all of their past accommodations had been rooms. They had solid walls and a window. They were relatively warm. Not this, it was an honest prison cell and the only solid wall in the place as the one pressed against their back. The door was metal, and the walls were slotted wood. It did not keep the draft out.
As far as Kevia could tell they were alone in this place, had been for the whole three days they estimated they’d been kept here. Training and habit kept them still and quiet even through the agonizing boredom. They hadn’t thought for a second that being prisoner could possibly be so boring. They’d served both of their last masters by their side, so regardless of the tasks they were assigned they were anything but boring.
But in the last three days, that is to say, last six meals they’d been served, they’d only seen the person who brought them food. Their chamber pot wasn't changed, and the guard brought the food, slid it through the grate, and walked away. Yesterday Kevia had tried speaking to her, but hadn’t gotten a response. Just food, and waiting.
Just like the last time they’d been captured from their master, this wasn't about them at all. Their captors wanted something from the captain, and they were using them to get it. Kevia couldn’t hold back their laugh. Fools. They thought. Why should the captain come for them? They were nothing but a messenger to the captain, an amusement sometimes. They weren’t anything that the captain needed back. So they’d resigned themself to this new life, whatever it was.
“What’s so funny?”
Kevia jumped back in surprise. Their head hitting the wall as they scrambled to their feet. They hadn’t even heard this person come in, but he stepped up in front of their cell and looked at them quizzically. It wasn’t their usual food delivered. They didn’t know this person.
“Well?” The man prompted when Kevia stared at him. “You’re not mute are you? That would be a dreadful disappointment.”
Kevia licked their lips, straightening their back.
“I was just, thinking.” Kevia said slowly. The man raised an eyebrow and they continued. “That you are holding me here as a hostage against the captain. But, she won’t come for me. I am nothing to her.”
“You think very little of yourself.” The man muttered. He unlocked the door and stepped into the cell. Kevia didn’t even think to run as the man left the door open and appraised them. “You’re a gift for me, and trust me when I say your value goes beyond leverage against the would-be pirate queen. You have ties to both the women who stand to own a good portion of this part of the world, and that is no small thing.” He laughed at Kevias frown. “That’s fine, that’s fine. Don’t believe me.” He said. “You’ll see, just hang in there. Now, I have a job offer for you,”
“No.” Kevia said swiftly. They didn't want another job, they were done with more jobs. They had two masters and, in their option, that was more than enough.
“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Did I make it sound like it was optional? Because it’s not.” He slid a knife from his belt. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t require a lot on your part. Right now, I just need some blood."
cw: physical exhaustion, forced labor
Kevia’s fist curled around the thin blanket, dragging it closer to their body. It didn’t cover them properly, one leg stuck out, their entire backside uncovered, but they didn’t move to fix it. They didn’t think they could move. If they did, it would surely hurt.
Kevia was no stranger to pain, but they hated most the pain that left no wounds. And if physcal labor could reasonably be considered torture, well, they’d had a long day of it. The princess had made them work, but it was rarely this . . . physical. If anything it was the opposite. They’d learned to sit still for hours without moving to scratch an itch, to carry a glass with grace and not spill a drop, they’d even had to learn to be swift when delivering messages.
When the storm had hit they’d been prepared to sit as small as they could and cling to their blanket for dear life. They hadn’t been expecting the door to swing open and a sailor to drag them topside.
“All hands on deck.”
Kevia wasn’t sure inexperienced hands were of any use, but before they could protest they were on deck taking a mouthful of rain. They’d been she herded to a rope that they’d clung to, pulling for dear life. They didn't think they’d done anything but blister their hands. They’d been handed barrels and goods and directed below decks. They’d slipped several times on the slick deck only to be hauled to their feet by a sailor and given another task. In the dark and the rain Kevia hadn’t recognized anyone and had been doing their best not to die.
It might have been hours later that the deck was secure and the ship sailing unsteadily into the wind and they were sent below. No longer useful, they’d drug their wet, tired body below and collapsed here on their bed and hadn’t moved. They had shed their clothes, which were lying in a sodden heap in the corner, and they lay half under a blanket and shivered.
Outside the rain continued to fall. The ship rocked and creaked with the wind. But they couldn’t quite find it in themself to be frightened. All their fear had burned up on the deck of the ship, staring into the dark waves and imagining their death. If they thought their near drowning experience before had been bad, this would have been much worse. And they doubted in the dark and the chaos anyone would have even noticed they were gone until it was far too late. Maybe they needed those swimming lessons after all.
Something touched Kevias shoulder and they jumped, rolling back. A cat stood in front of them, staring at them. It moved closer, letting out a quiet mew and bumped them with it’s head again. Kevia didn’t even know there was a cat aboard, and now it was kneading their blanket and making itself a space near their stomach.
They didn’t move, staring at the creature that curled itself into a fluffy ball and pressed up next to them. After a moment, it began to purr.
Kevia had never been this close to a cat before. Any cats in the castle knew better than to be anywhere near the princess, and they’d only spotted them from afar. Slowly, they loosened their fingers from the blanket and hovered their hand over the cat. When the touched it’s fur, it only purred harder. It was so soft. Kevia smiled, closing their eyes as they gently pet the cat. They relaxed, resting a little easier with the company of the cat.
cw: abuse, flashbacks, referenced trauma
Kevia stumbled as the captain all but tossed them into their room. She was angry, they could feel it. They thought they’d been doing the right thing, they’d been trying to help. The captain had rewarded them for taking initiative in the past. But they really should have known better than to act before they were given orders. A good servant waits to be called.
There really isn’t any getting it right. Kevia thought ruefully. They pulled themself up straight as the captain approached, clenching their fists to hide the shaking. It was okay. It was always okay. They could withstand anything the captain threw at them.
“Do you even know what you’ve cost us?” The captain yelled. No, Kevia didn’t really, but they didn’t dare say so. They put on their best look of regret and bowed their head. They were startled when the captain repeated the question. “Do you?”
Kevia froze. They hadn’t thought the captain actually wanted an answer.
When Kevia didn’t respond, the captain made a noise of frustration and stepped forwards. “You ignorant little rat.” She growled. Kevia flinched away from the slap they knew was coming, and suddenly they were falling back through time.
The princesses hand hit them across the cheek and they went stumbling backwards.
“You ungrateful little rat,” the princess said. Kevias knees gave out and they collapsed on the ground at her feet, wrapping their arms around themself. The princess stopped, stareing down at Kevia with her brows furrowed.
“Please,” Kevia pleaded. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
The princess didn’t speak but Kevia heard the words as clearly as if she’d shouted them.
*”You’re sorry? You ruin me like this and all you can say is sorry?”*
“I’m sorry.” Kevia willed themself not to cry, the princess hated to see their weakness, but they couldn’t help it. They couldn’t help the hiccup in their voice as they begged their master for mercy. “Can I fix it? Tell me what I did, I’ll pay, I promise.”
The princesses laugh echoed in Kevias head, sharp and cruel.
*”If you don’t even know what you did, why should I tell you?”*
Kevia flinched away from the sound of metal scraping against stone and closed their eyes. They didn’t want to see what weapon the princess pulled from the wall. They wanted to be useful, they wanted to fix their mistakes. They didn’t want the pain they knew was coming. They hadn’t see the princess this angry before. She was going to make them hurt.
*”You will pay. Trust me, I will have my losses in your blood.”*
Kevia yelped when hands touched their face, but their back hit the wall. They hadn’t realized they’d inched themself into a corner, but there was no escaping it now. The princess crouching in front of them, hands outstretched. There was no weapon, but Kevia was sure it wasn’t far behind.
“Kevia,” the princess spoke, but it wasn’t her voice. “Kevia darling, come back.”
“I won’t run.” Kevia croaked. “I promise.” They wouldn’t. She’d just startled them was all. They’d never run from a punishment. They’d be as good as they possibly could be.
*”You’ll never be good. The only thing you’re good for is pain.”*
“Kevia, I won’t hurt you.” The princess said. Kevia didn’t flinch this time when she cupped their face. They pulled in a breath and waited for the pain. But she simply stroked their cheek, muttering quietly. “Kevia *I’m* sorry. I overreacted, I hurt you. But I won’t hurt you again, okay? Do you know where you are?”
“Of course.” Kevia said. They opened their mouth again, then blinked a few times. The stone walls of the dungeon suddenly felt so far away, the warm wood of the ship pressing against their back. The captain kneeling in front of them, stroking them gently, a look of concern on her face.
“I’m on the ship.” Kevia whispered. The echos of the princesses voice rang in their head, but the captains was louder as she gave a laugh.
“Yes dear,” the captain said. “I’m sorry, I truly am. I won’t ask you who you thought I was, but I will try not to be like her again.”
Kevia blinked away the tears, pulling away from the captains hands. “’s all right.” They sniffled. They slowly released their arms, wincing at the bruises they’d left there. “I’m okay.”
Kevia startled as the captain pulled them forwards and they went tense as she wrapped her arms around them.
“It’s okay to be a long time until you’re okay. But that’s just fine.”
Kevia sat frozen, pressed against the captains chest. They felt the tightness in their own chest crack away until they sobbing. They pressed forwards, clinging to the captain and letting their tears fall, letting the captain stroke their hair and whisper gently to them.
Kevia couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she didn’t care either. For once, she safe, right here in her masters arms.
da2 is so aware that it’s a story both for comedic and tragic effect and that’s why I think hawke shouldn’t have shown up in inquisition and whenever varric is asked about the events of da2 he should be lying/twisting the truth and never give the inquisitor a straight answer
Ivan’s Stress Free Bar
Part 13 of Sailing Husbands posted
Access it here. Comments and re-blogs always appreciated. Thanks!
Borrowed Writing Prompt Meme Day 26 : Guitar Verse: Princes Of A Kind || Twin Mortal Child Pocket Verse Featured: @tarnishedhalo
Watching his brother break the guitar riley gave him all to pieces after Lugh’s locked up.
Each word is emphasized with a strike of wood against the concrete. Pieces shattering. Splintering off into the dying day. Rage the likes which he has never possessed dismantling the once prized possession. Striking it over and over and over again until nothing is left but what lies in hand.
Be all his fault! . WE TRUSTED HIM! I trusted him! HE COMES TA OUR HOUSE!!! MICHAELINE SHOULDNA STOP ME FROM TAKIN’ ‘IS BALLS!
The neck is snapped in two. And for a moment perhaps Luka revels in the silence. The sounds of the evening absent of his brother’s anger. But it’s soon enough broken again. Heavy foot falls stalking about. The scrape of all the pieces being collected. And hatred laced spite seeing it all being thrown into the fire pit they made with their own two hands out here out of sight and sound of the house. The already present fire catching the newly added fuel quick and hungry. The jostle of the bench as his twin half collaspes next to him.
Then don’t speak for what seems like hours. Two sets of green staring into the flames. And while it might be lost on his brother...the analogy isn’t so upon Luka. Because he sees the parallels. How the once instrument was the life they had and the fire is the change neither of them can do anything about. The fire is their father being taken away. The fire is them being uprooted. Brought out here in the middle of no where. Away from any and all prying eyes. They hate it here. Both for the same as well as different reasons.
And the silence waxes. Grows as heavy and uninviting as the screaming and shattering of wood. Yet it holds because he doesn’t know what to say and Lorcan has said his piece. For now at least. Though he’s a feeling the anger will always remain. Because that is what his brother does. He explodes but then he harbors. And while he’s too young to realize it now--later he will. That this was the moment he should have said something different. That this was the moment who they could have been drastically and irrevocably changed. The moment that a future writer and muscian died. And seeds of future princes were sowed.
“We be figurin’ i’ ou’ Lors aye? Ma canna keep us hidden here fore’er an’ Da canna stay gone fore’er neio’der. Bu’ we’ll ge’ ‘im. No today or ta’morrow...maybe no’ for years bu’ we’ll ge’ ‘im. Wha’e’er i’ takes. Mister Roi’ley be payin’ for wha’ he done ta Da.”
A breath of silence. A hand upturned, settled where legs meet. And he can feel his brother’s gaze track to it. Sees a jaw shift just like his does when he’s upset. Just like their father’s does. And then...a hand that matches his own settles on top. Palm to palm. Fingers finding niches between his.
Aye, Luk. An’ he be payin’ in spades.
The first installment of course being the mahogany acoustic that will be ash come morning.
normal people during halloween: spooky movies
me: time to rewatch every treasure hunting movie
Samuel “Black Sam” Bellamy was supposed to be in Black Sails but in this universe he never becomes a pirate because Silver hits him over the head with a bottle to get on the ship in episode one
this was funnier in my head
the fast n furious franchise has profoundly affected my life I say “wHaT aRe YoU DOING bRiAn” to myself ten+ times a day
Cruise drug bust case: My mobile number misused as Sam D’souza by Prabhakar Sail, says Palghar trader
A resident of Palghar has alleged that Prabhakar Sail, a key witness in the cruise drug bust case, misused his number as Sam D’souza and has denied his involvement in the ₹38 lakh deal in the Aryan Khan case A resident of Palghar has alleged that Prabhakar Sail, a key witness in the cruise drug bust case, misused his number as Sam D’souza and has denied his involvement in the ₹38 lakh deal in…
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The Battle of Trafalgar, 21 October 1805  c.1905-08
One of a series of five paintings depicting the events of the Battle of Trafalgar (RCINs 405392, 405396, 405400-2). Following Nelson's orders, the 'Royal Sovereign' led by Collingwood was to enter the battle at right angles, rather than broadside in an attempt to swiftly 'decapitate' the enemy's navy. This was an unusual and risky tactic. Here, the 'Royal Sovereign' breaks the enemy's line and passes the stern of the Spanish flagship, 'Santa Anna'. On the left in the foreground is the Spanish two-decker 'San Justo' and on the right a column of English battleships ready to enter the engagement.
The group was possibly painted c. 1905, around the time of the battle's centenary, and it is unusual in de Martino's oeuvre, as these are the only historical scenes by him. De Martino's contemporaries, Thomas Jacques Somerscales and William Wyllie had both portrayed the event in the 1890s (Somerscales painting c. 1894, in the Government Art Collection). However, it was perhaps an appropriate reminder of one the greatest naval victories at a time when there was rising unease at the threat of war with Germany, and plans to build a Home Fleet.
In 1910 the paintings remained unsold and de Martino sent a round robin letter stating his wish that the Nation should have his 'life of Nelson paintings'. A response was sent on behalf of the King saying he would like to help, but couldn't quite see a way to realise this. On October 30th 1912, following de Martino's death, George V's Private Secretary, Lord Stamfordham reported that he had visited the artist's widow at her late husband's studio presumably to view the paintings. Isabel de Martino insisted that the paintings were only to be sold all together. On the 6 February 1913 she wrote to Lord Stamfordham…' I am pleased to accept your offer, about my husband's pictures. From the first, I told you how happy I was to feel that the King would have the Trafalgar pictures… I accept the offer of Twelve thousand guineas for the 7 pictures, the series of the 5 pictures of the battle of Trafalgar and, 1 of the Nile; 1 of the battle of St Vincent.'
George V's diary records that on Sunday 9 March, 1913: 'In the afternoon we went with David & Mary to Martino's studio and his widow and daughter showed us all his pictures.'
Purchased by King George V from the artist’s widow, February 1913
Perhaps there is nothing more awful than the alarm of fire at sea: the feeling that there is no escape—the only choice being by which element, fire or water, you choose to perish.
— Frederick Marryat, Percival Keene
The Loss of the East Indiaman 'Kent' in the Bay of Biscay, 1 March 1825, by Thomas Buttersworth.
Whoever composed the black sails theme put their whole pussy in it
"My affinity for tales of the high seas has only grown during this pandemic. I have weighed the anchor and let my imagination be set adrift, wind in my sails, with freedom as my destination" - Capt. Kyle Roze
XXVI - X - XXI